The Malediction
by Snarky64
Summary: After the Battle of Hogwarts, Severus Snape needs to find Harry Potter to give him crucial information to defeat the Dark Lord.  He reflects on his life, his mission, and his curse that killed the Marauders.  Canon character death.


**Disclaimer: All hail JKR, creator and owner of all things Potter.**

**A/N: **In canon after the Battle of Hogwarts. It struck me that now all the Marauders were dead. What if Snape had somehow had a more decisive hand in that?

* * *

><p><strong>The Malediction<strong>

"Where is the Dark Lord?" Bella spat to those around the fire. "I must tell him that the tree is pruned to his requirements."

Snape took his eyes from the fire to behold Bella's dark-eyed mania. "He is with Lucius in the Shrieking Shack." She started in that direction. "They are talking privately Bella," Snape sneered. Bella kicked the earth impatiently, overflowing with her twisted happiness.

She leaned in to Snape. "I have killed the blood traitor and Dolohov has done for the half-breed. Ha! Together! Her eyes blazed with triumph. "As my Lord commanded. I will see to the pup and my blood traitor sister after the battle. Add this to the disposal of Sirius, I have cleaned house well." She sneered and moved away.

He stared once more at the fire. _The pup_, he thought. _Oh yes, Lupin and Tonks had a boy. I warned Lupin that he was cursed and that his bloodline was cursed. I had hoped to save him that pain. I thought he had listened. I suppose once I killed Albus, my advice perhaps didn't look so sage. I had not admitted that it was I who had cursed him in addition to the curse he already bore._

_All I wished for then is now accomplished,_ he thought squeezing his eyes tightly at the memory. _That was my malediction: that the Marauders not reach their wizarding prime and any years between the malediction and their deaths would be fraught with misery and pain and loss._ A small smile twisted his mouth at his youth's creativity and cruelty. _Potter died twenty years ago, Black just three, Pettigrew not two months since (a proper traitor's death at his own magical hand) and now Lupin. Potter's early death had ensured there had not been such suffering. Of course, the others had suffered. Oh yes, they had suffered indeed. Lupin according to his own curse, Pettigrew trapped as a rat then as whipping boy to the Dark Lord and Black probably most brutally of all. Even now, I am not entirely repentant for Black's suffering over all those years._

_And because I had the righteous rage of the young to indulge in, I added the extinction of the bloodline as a flourish, to please the Dark Lord. Now, two families are extinct in the male line. The two remaining are not but soon will be if the malediction is fulfilled. The boy and Lupin's child now remain. I have much to accomplish and my time is short._

Ancient and dark magic had created the malediction; only the same could break it. His own bloodline sacrifice had sealed the malediction. He still recalled it vividly.

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><p>It was the night that he was to take the Dark Mark. He was required to perform Dark magic for the Dark Lord to an order of magnitude demonstrating his commitment to the Dark Lord's service and values.<p>

Snape was 17. He was a youth of few social skills, abused and embittered and consumed by spite and rage. He was also, at the bare age of 17, a wizard of consummate skill and already learned in the Dark Arts. There had been only two things in his life that had brought him joy: one was his magic and the other, Lily, had gone from him. He revered the power that magic gave him to counteract his abject loneliness and helplessness. His sorrow at the loss of Lily blighted his life. He still harboured distant hopes that should become powerful enough, he could win her back but he knew these to be distant hopes indeed. She hated him now.

The Dark Lord had seen all this and had encouraged Snape's spite and vengeful feelings. Snape's hatred made him so much stronger for the Dark Lord, such an exquisite weapon in his hands.

It was the Dark Lord who had read Snape's overwhelming desire for revenge against this childhood tormentors – read it, fed it, manipulated it and encouraged it. The Dark Lord could see that the two blood traitors and the half-breed would ally themselves against him. The fourth was not yet a known quantity, but was of no consequence at this stage. Snape's desire for revenge was long-term and the Dark Lord revelled in the long game – in the drawing out of pain.

He circled the youth, who knelt before him in supplication, unmasked, with his arm of this left shirt sleeve open to receive his brand. "You have performed for me magic most malignant to show your fealty to me, Severus. You have performed the Blood Line Malediction against our common enemies and I have assisted you in that enterprise." There were gasps from the assembled Death Eaters present. "Oh yes, young Severus has displayed the utmost loyalty to me in a manner that most of you would not even consider, so concerned are you at perpetuating your own lineage. Severus has surrendered his own blood line to extinction to seal the Malediction." The Dark Lord placed one long-fingered white hand on Severus's hair and stroked it. "Like for like, given and taken. Your malediction falls on these four and their line."

"All I ask, my Lord, is that I live to see the deaths of those four and I will rejoice," Snape whispered.

"Oh, you shall, Severus." The Dark Lord had branded him then and the shroud of malignancy settled over the soul of Severus Snape that remained in place for three years.

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><p>Here and now, Snape had lived to see the fulfilment of the first part of the malediction. But he was not the man that wrought that curse with the Dark Lord. Knowing that the last of the Marauders was now gone saddened him. He had reached an accommodation with Lupin through the work with the Order in the end. Not friendship, but peaceful co-existence. His own troubled soul had hoped he could lift the curse before its fulfilment of this last of the four, as he knew the end of his own days was coming. In his own way, he mourned for Lupin, his family and for the further destruction to his soul.<p>

He remembered how he had sought out Dumbledore on the hilltop after he had delivered the incomplete prophecy to the Dark Lord. His terror was abject and complete. The Dark Lord sought the life of Lily. His Lily, in what remained of his otherwise petrified heart. He pleaded for protection for her from Dumbledore. He recalled the man's disgust that Snape had sought mercy for her alone from the Dark Lord, ready to give up the husband and child.

The husband and child were already given up, Snape knew, to his curse. Snape then told Dumbledore that the protection of the family would ultimately be more difficult than even Dumbledore realised. Snape confessed to his own Malediction in return for the Dark Mark. Dumbledore hissed his disgust. Never had Snape seen such naked anger in this man's eyes – this man who was often gently mocked for always giving second chances.

The invisible hand that clenched his heart, tightened further. Had he doomed Lily so completely? His malicious choices as a youth would now wreak their malice on the thing he held most dear. He was in anguish. Dumbledore would try to protect them but he wanted something from Snape in return. He did not understand, but knew he must comply. In his twenty years, he had never felt the consuming fear that he now felt for his dear heart Lily. _I promised him anything,_ Snape recalled. _He took everything. To keep Lily in this world, with or without me, I gave it gladly._

Snape became Dumbledore's spy against Voldemort whilst pretending to be the other. It took all Snape's skill at dissembling to achieve this. He immersed himself in occlumency so deep that at times he was barely a functioning shell.

However, Dumbledore could not save Lily and her family. That insignificant other had betrayed the Fidelius charm. Lily and her husband were slaughtered. Their boy lived, somehow deflecting the Killing curse on the Dark Lord.

Snape's heart broke irretrievably.

With Dumbledore on the night of that murder, he wrought a vow from Snape to protect Lily's child for her memory. Dumbledore convinced Snape that the Dark Lord would return and the child would be in danger. Snape reminded Dumbledore rather acidly that the boy remained in danger from Snape's own curse.

"Will you give me what is necessary to break this Malediction, Severus? Not just for Lily's child, but for the three survivors?"

Snape's stomach churned. He had no wish to assist the others. But the curse was interwoven: all would have to be undone, or none could be undone. His shoulders sagged. "I will, Albus. I will give my life to protect Lily's child. When the time comes, I will die to release my curse by my own blood. Like for like, given and taken."

Dumbledore's blue eyes pierced Snape's own. Tears prickled at the old man's eyes. Too much damage, just too much to be reparable. He nodded. "Your blood will redeem the curse at the appointed time."

Snape swore the Unbreakable Vow that his death would be used to redeem the curse and that his was the fault, his only was the fault. On his death, the curse would lift and break. In the meantime, his life would be one of servitude to Albus Dumbledore to ensure that all was in place to protect Lily's child and that the challenges could be met as they fell due. There would be no hope for Snape in his lifetime, he knew, but every hope for the redemption of his soul by keeping Lily's child safe until the appointed time.

This he did. He lived his life under the aegis and protection of Dumbledore quietly. Lily's boy came to Hogwarts ten years after his parents' murders. The sight of him incensed Snape. He coped with it as best he could, which wasn't well, all the time assuring himself that this would be a fit and proper persona for a Death Eater. From the boy's first year, it was apparent that the Dark Lord would return and various attempts were made upon the boy and the magic of Hogwarts. Between Dumbledore and Snape, they averted much, but not all, of the damage.

Then, in the boy's fourth year, the Dark Lord returned and Dumbledore sent Snape back into his service. Had it not been for Lily, Snape could not, and would not, have done it. He could not have borne to be a supplicant at the feet of the monster who had distorted Snape's life to the husk it had become. He did not deny his own fault, but the madman was also responsible. But Lily's memory and the protection of her child had become his cause. Without it, his life now on borrowed time, had no meaning.

Snape, the ultimate spy, convinced the Dark Lord of his continuing fealty and insinuated himself back into his most trusted ranks.

Before the boy's sixth year, Dumbledore became the victim of a powerful, Dark curse through a ring. He never fully explained to Snape how his judgement had slipped so completely as to put the ring on. The curse was lethal and Dumbledore now had limited time.

Two almighty blows fell upon Snape as a result of this.

Dumbledore wrought a further vow from Snape: that Snape should kill Dumbledore at the appointed time to save the soul of Draco Malfoy who had been charged to do it by the Dark Lord.

Snape could have wept. "What about my soul Albus?" he had cried, such sorrow welling up inside his chest so that it felt it would burst out. _The man always pushed me to my limits. He asked too much, always too much,_ Snape recalled. He had agreed because Dumbledore had pleaded, had reminded Snape that other Death Eaters would violate him if they were present and only Snape could release him painlessly. _But I still had to kill you, Albus, kill my one friend and confessor and know, with that act, any shred of honour I possessed would be extinguished, and I would be despised and rejected by decent wizardkind forever._

Snape exhaled a long sigh. He was, of course, lauded amongst the Death Eaters for that act. But now, he had to give the boy important information. The time had come.

Prior to his death, Dumbledore was teaching the boy, equipping him against the Dark Lord. Dumbledore did not enlighten Snape with any details. The second blow had been that Dumbledore had revealed that a part of the Dark Lord's soul had torn off and embedded itself in the boy. The boy had to die and the Dark Lord himself had to kill him. Snape's whole being cried out against this. He had sworn to keep Lily's child safe. He had sworn by his life and by his death. This was the information he had to impart to Lily's child – that he must sacrifice himself.

_I refused, of course. I was so outraged that for sixteen years of my life I had been assisting in the rearing of a sacrificial lamb. Albus knew I would not comply; not in this. Not this final betrayal of Lily's child; of Lily herself. Never again. Albus then made a vow to me – his first and last – his dying vow upon his own soul – that, if the boy made the sacrifice, it would seal an ancient magic. It would only kill that part of the Dark Lord's soul that had embedded itself in the boy and the boy would then be liberated from the Dark Lord fully. It was a blood sacrifice which would enhance Lily's sacrifice and, in turn, would extend that protection to those beloved of and protected by the boy. I am not to tell the boy this. He has to go to his death, prepared to die._

How could Snape convince the boy to believe him? He, Snape, who had cold bloodedly murdered the boy's beloved Headmaster? He, Snape, who had bedevilled the boy's school career? He, Snape, who had betrayed his mother, his father and the boy himself, in ways the boy did not even yet know of? If he, Snape, tells the boy that he must allow the Dark Lord to kill him, of course he will not believe him. Dumbledore did not provide him with any insight to achieve this.

So far, all his attempts to find the boy had failed. Snape had fought in the Battle of Hogwarts merely to stay alive to deliver this final message. He was tired. His life was increasingly unbearable, increasingly tortured by the relentless cruelty that surrounded him. The hollowness of his soul pressed outward. Snape was ready to die. He was ready to redeem his Malediction. His final mission was a heavy burden and seemed without solution.

Had he been able to lay hands on the boy in the school, his idea had been to tell the boy and allow the boy to test him with Veritaserum, but events had overtaken him. Now, perhaps, the most convincing way would be by Pensieve. He needed to find and engage the boy, even if it were in combat. He started to select the memories to make the Pensieve record for the boy that would underline his sincerity and impart what he needed to know.

To find the boy, Snape stretched out with his mind, searching. _What is this?_ he thought as his head snapped up. The boy was searching for the Dark Lord. _No!_ He had to have time to prepare the boy.

Panic, such as Snape had never known, seized him. Everything – his soul – everything – all the good in the world – everything – Lily – rested on this. He jumped up. He had to intercept the boy and force him to listen! As he strode off in the direction he knew the boy was heading, then Malfoy stood before him.

"I see you have anticipated the Dark Lord's summons," Lucius muttered, a shadow of the man he had been. Snape cocked his head to one side. "Our Lord seeks you urgently," Lucius confirmed. "Of course," Snape purred, continuing his stride towards the Shrieking Shack.

A deep sense of foreboding pushed down into his gut. So long he had walked towards this, and now, all could be lost. A fist of ice-cold terror took residence in his heart. He was certain this meeting would be his last. The Dark Lord's intent seemed to resonate from the Shack. It was not malice, it was just cold intent.

Snape's mind was whirling. The boy was on his way. How could he last long enough to pass on this last message? He had been carrying various potions with him to extend his life to this point. If the Dark Lord used the Killing curse, nothing could assist him. But, as Dumbledore said, the Dark Lord appeared to fear for the life of his snake and he kept it with him now always. Snape was prepared to make a good guess his end would come from that snake. He had a Blood Slowing Potion. It was slow the flow of blood from any wound. Perhaps it would buy him the time he needed. He took just enough and entered the Shack. Now, more than ever, he had to dissemble.

The time came, the snake approached and struck and then the Dark Lord and his snake left. The boy had come. Snape released his selected memories to the boy. It could not have worked out better – the boy would not distrust the memories of a dying man. It was up to the boy now. He would watch. He would understand. Snape had no doubt whatsoever that the boy would make the sacrifice.

Snape's last act had to be now: to fulfil his vow to Dumbledore and break the Malediction. _Mea culpa, mea maxima culpa. Forgive me_,_ free Potter's boy, free Lupin's boy. My blood for them – taken and given, like for like._ He knew it was done.

It was hard to concentrate now. All things were ebbing away; darkness was engulfing him. He looked at the boy's eyes. Snape drifted gently towards that good night, recalling oddly a poem from his youth, drifted towards the only true peace he had ever known with his last thought.

_He has Lily's eyes._

**FIN: 3 October 2011**

**A/N: **I kept thinking of this poem when I was writing this. This poem protests about going to one's death, but Snape accepts his because his "rage against the dying of the light" has been acted upon in his lifetime, in this story. I thought I'd put it here if you'd like to read it.

_Do not go gentle into that good night,  
>Old age should burn and rave at close of day;<br>Rage, rage against the dying of the light._

_Though wise men at their end know dark is right,_  
><em>Because their words had forked no lightning they<em>  
><em>Do not go gentle into that good night.<em>

_Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright_  
><em>Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,<em>  
><em>Rage, rage against the dying of the light.<em>

_Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,_  
><em>And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,<em>  
><em>Do not go gentle into that good night.<em>

_Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight_  
><em>Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,<em>  
><em>Rage, rage against the dying of the light.<em>

_And you, my father, there on the sad height,_  
><em>Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.<em>  
><em>Do not go gentle into that good night.<em>  
><em>Rage, rage against the dying of the light.<em>

_**Dylan Thomas**_


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